


Visions and Memory

by wraith17



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5275367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wraith17/pseuds/wraith17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s no where in all of time and space she can hide from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visions and Memory

The Lady still hasn't been able to figure out what exactly it is about her current lover that draws her to him. He's older than herself; silver curls, wrinkles and sad blue grey eyes, someone that she wouldn't usually look at, let alone sleep with. His gaze feels almost hypnotic when those sad and ageless eyes turn to her, into her, like he sees something inside her that she isn't privy too. 

He calls himself the Doctor, says odd little things like he's been looking for her and he wants her to go away with him. Always done when he curls his fingers into her meticulously coifed hair and covers her shimmering red lips with his thin ones. That is when they start, whispers in her head, visions of death and violence that she doesn't remember doing but in her mind's eye it's her reflection she catches in broken glass, dented metal and the glazed over eyes of her victims. Her head is spinning, the blood on her hands feels real; hot, wet and sticky against her palms, coagulating under rings and she falls to her knees, her frantic breathing restricted by the corset she doesn’t own and she feels faint. That is when he appears, the Doctor, serene and stoic among the flames and destruction, crouching in front of her in the ashes and bones of her victims, his expression pained, eyes still sad, but he doesn't condemn her. Instead he cradles her face, those eyes filling with tears as they focus on her and her alone and he kisses her. She doesn't like these visions, because they just can't be her memories, and they prompt her to be more forceful with him despite his attempts to slow their kisses and touches. But it feels wrong, the feeling twisting around in her gut and she bites him, hard. Coppery blood runs from his lip into her mouth, she likes him better like this, pliant under her will. It's always him that takes the initiative, his fingers loosening the knot of her tie, flicking her blazer off her shoulders and undoing the small pearl buttons on her blouse. The way he looks at her now is endearing, his eyes losing the sadness as they run over her exposed skin even as his hands work to free her of all her coverings. While he works she isn't idle, removing his coverings and, as always, delights in seeing his desire for her. Her hand slips down his stomach, grasping his cock in a firm hold, palm running over the velvety smooth skin. A grin splits her red lips apart, white teeth stark against her lipstick as he whimpers and moans. He's a noisy thing, whenever she touches him without the visions making her hesitate, like he's trying to encourage her affection even if he's more aggressive than her.

The Lady lets out an involuntary whimper as she finds herself pinned on her back, the Doctor quickly following her onto the bed, his lips trailing butterfly kisses down her throat and over her collarbone. Her fingers spear through his curls, guiding his head lower as she closes her eyes and tries to shut out the visions. She's brought out of her state when he bites down on her breast, pale blue eyes snapping open wide in shock and arousal. He grins cheekily around her flesh in his mouth, the Lady finding herself growing wetter as he continues to trail bites over her chest and back up to her neck. 

"Oh." She squeaks out, hips bucking up against him, smearing her growing wetness against his now hard cock. The Doctor slides into her easily now, he fits with her perfectly, and in a way that shouldn't be possible she feels complete. Her thighs open and cradle his hips as they snap against hers, the motion dominating and rough but she has the feeling that he's always holding himself back, like he's afraid to hurt her. That underneath his thin exterior lies a hidden strength and he could break her if he wasn't careful, the Lady likes that more than she should. The thought that the Doctor could kill her while fucking her has her clenching around him tighter. A small part of her wants him to, wants to feel his teeth ripping into the tender flesh of her throat, blood pouring out and bathing him in a glorious red, his hips slamming into hers so hard her pelvis shatters, bits of bone spearing out of her, marrow leaking from the breaks while he keeps fucking her. She feels wrong, like she isn’t complete, not functioning at the height of her ability. She should be able to take a bit to the throat and live, he shouldn’t have to hold himself back because she’s fragile. She is so much more than this weak, human shell.  
The Doctor smirks against her throat, did she say that out loud? His teeth graze her jugular, pinching the flesh of her throat in a tight grasp. This is it, this is what she wants, that makes her feel like she can do anything, be anything. Destroy or save the universe. Her pulse thuds in her ears; one, two, three, four. Cunt clenching tight around her lover, fingernails, tipped with his blood, scratching down the Doctor's back. He shudders, moaning against her throat, biting her now hard enough to bruise, it doesn't matter, nothing matters anymore. Nothing save this; her and him, the universe burns down to them. They are the last of their kind. 

The Lady screams when her climax hits her, her grip tightening on her lover, holding onto him as she pants and shakes. The Doctor whimpers against her throat, lapping at the small rivulets of blood leaking from the marks he's left. His fingers glide through her hair, cradling the side of her face and looking at her in that heartbreaking way once more. 

As always the Lady is the first to break the eye contact her attention stolen by a seemingly innocuous looking pocket watch that most of the time she forgets she owns. Delicate fingers reach out and pluck the watch from its resting place on her bed side table, turning it over in her hands and feeling the need to open it wash over her like a tidal wave, despite the alarm clock sitting just behind it, cheerfully lighting up the time. She pries at the sides, brow furrowing in frustration as it doesn't open. 

Turning to her lover, pressed against her side now, when he moved she wasn't sure, she asks him in a small, vulnerable voice she doesn't like. "Can you open it for me?"

He shakes his head, pressing a consoling kiss to her bare shoulder. "I can't, it's only something you can do. When you're ready, I'll be here." It's an odd thing to say and the Lady's brow furrows, the small wrinkles on her face deepening with her displeasure. Surely she should be able to open the stupid watch. Grunting with irritation she places it back on her bedside table, turning her back to the Doctor, annoyed by the watch and his refusal to open it.  
It doesn’t last long, the Lady yawns, nuzzling into her pillow and feels the Doctor curling up at her back, his arm draping over her waist and pressing a few final kisses to the nape of her neck and shoulder. She goes slack and heavy in his arms, visions of a graveyard, silver metal men and an exploding planet with angry, screaming salt shakers filling up her mind. Unbeknownst to her, the Doctor splays two fingers on her forehead, silencing those unpleasant dreams and replacing them with those of scarlet grasses, a burnt orange sky and two children laughing and chasing each other through the fields and around silver tipped trees. The Lady smiles slightly in her sleep, rolling over to curl up on the Doctor’s chest, small fingers touching both of his hearts.

The Doctor sighs quietly, the sadness returning to his eyes as he looks over the unopened pocket watch. Hoping that next time he would be able to get the Lady to open the watch and they could leave together. "Goodnight Missy."


End file.
